


Soldier, Poet, King

by DetectiveRoboRyan



Series: Forever It'll Be [4]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: (technically) - Freeform, Additional Character Tags to be Added, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dumbasses on an Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Multi, Musical, Relationships are Flavor At Best, Sequel, Songfic, The power of music, if i say that enough eventually i will believe it, is it a sequel if the first fic is only half-done?, it's not cringy to put song lyrics into ur fic bc its 2019 and i say so, none of these idiots had like any personality, now they all share one braincell and they're gonna be best friends, so i took matters into my own hands, theyre so stupid. i love them, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 07:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18615751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveRoboRyan/pseuds/DetectiveRoboRyan
Summary: It's been twenty years since the last war, and Elibe has enjoyed a time of relative peace. Now an adult, Hugh has left home to pursue his dream of performing in every royal court on the continent... as soon as he pays back the gambling debts he's racked up, anyway. Taking a temporary job contract in Bern City to try and dig himself out of the debt hole, Hugh meets a group of people whom he'll come to know as good friends. They all have different goals and destinations, but they share a love of music, and that's a powerful thing. However, what begins as a trip to Ilia to check on its king and queen soon proves to involve far more than that, which could spell danger not just for himself, but to Elibe itself. But that's what friends are for, right?Set in the same universe asHand-me-downandWagon Wheel.Reading those before reading this fic is recommended, but not required.





	Soldier, Poet, King

**Author's Note:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) hugh time ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Hugh reached Bern City a day and a half ago. He’s been on the road for about a month— it only takes about two weeks, if you’re quick, but Hugh hadn’t bothered to be— and thus far he’d gambled away all of his money and his favorite jacket, gotten laughed out of the castle before he could even introduce himself, and been banned from open stage night at three different taverns for "upsetting the older patrons." He’s starting to regret leaving at all. Maybe he should’ve just stayed home.  
  
Not that he’s going to admit that so soon, of course. He’d already seriously considered giving up on traveling when his mother started crying once he was halfway up the road. In fact, he’d tried to, but she’d shooed him back, saying that if he was going to go on tour, he ought to commit to it. And Hugh and his siblings were all raised right, which means that they don’t argue with their mom when she insists on something. That’s just silly.  
  
Still, he already misses home.  
  
But even if he does decide, for certain, that he’s going to go back, he can’t do that with empty pockets and without his favorite jacket. So the only thing to do is to look on the job board, right? That’s the perfect solution.  
  
Which is how he ends up waiting at a table in a tavern back room with four other people sitting at four different corners of the table. Hugh awkwardly squeezes himself into one of the chairs and tries not to let on how out of his depth he is. He wishes he’d brought a piece of wheat grass to chew on or something, to at least make him _look_ like he was as badass as he pretended to be. (He was part of an acting group as a kid. He knows the importance of props.)  
  
He takes a look at the people gathered. From his left to his right, there’s a man with long purple hair and big muscles, a woman with short, silvery hair and equally big muscles, another woman with an impressive longbow, and someone that could be either a man or a woman (Hugh well and truly couldn’t assume if he tried) that doesn’t look outwardly intimidating but that probably just means they’re a mage and could kill Hugh in any number of nasty magical ways. Hugh wants to go home.  
  
Hugh coughs. Everyone looks at him. A part of Hugh that never grew past age four wishes he could hide behind his mother’s skirt.  
  
“So, uh,” he starts. “You’re all here for that job too, right? Cool, very cool. You all can call me Hugh, since it seems we’ll be working together. Can’t help but be curious what the Bern Knights want some mercs for, though, you know?”  
  
The woman in one corner shrugs. She looks tall even though she’s sitting down, and also like she could snap Hugh in half with ease. “You don’t look like a merc,” she says. “I’m Echidna, by the by. That’s Geese.” She jabs her thumb at the man next to her.  
  
“I’m Hugh. I’m really more of a jack of all trades,” Hugh lies.  
  
Geese next to her nods sagely. “A bard, then.”  
  
Hugh shrugs modestly. “I dabble.”  
  
“Hey, music man, you know this one song,” Geese starts. “Y’know, the one that’s like, an epic poem kinda thing?”  
  
“Maybe,” Hugh says. “What’s it about?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t remember the name,” Geese admits. “But it goes, uh, there are these two warring factions, and they’re fighting for possession of this orb of power, and each of them is trying to get it to its place on their holy ground or else they’ll experience a century of shame and dishonor.”  
  
“I… don’t know a story like that,” Hugh admits.  
  
“Geese, that’s basketball,” Echidna says. “You’re talking about basketball.”  
  
Geese blinks. “ _Ohh_. Yeah, okay.”  
  
“My name is Elphin, if there are to be introductions,” the person to Hugh’s right says. “I’m something of a bard as well.”  
  
Hugh perks up. “Yeah? What do you play?”  
  
“I’m best with the harp,” Elphin replies. “And you?”  
  
“Mostly lute,” Hugh says. “I’ve been—“  
  
Echidna snaps her fingers. “You were the bard that got chased off that street corner by a bunch of kids with slingshots last week,” she realizes. “I wondered about that!”  
  
Hugh grimaces. “Listen, I’m new in town, I didn’t realize they owned the sidewalk.”  
  
Geese snorts. “Yeah, those ten-year-olds are _real_ territorial. Vicious, y’know.”  
  
“Come on, now—“  
  
The door opens before Hugh can defend himself. A knight in Bern’s colors walks in, all business even when she sits down in an empty chair. She’s followed closely by a woman in white robes, who sits in the final empty chair and looks to the knight.  
  
“I presume you’re all here for the job from the board,” she says.  
  
Everyone nods. “Are you?” Hugh asks.  
  
“I am not,” the knight replies. “My name is Ser Melody. This is my colleague, Ellen.”  
  
Ellen bobs her head politely. “You all look like a fine group,” she says. When her eyes settle on Hugh, she frowns, like she’s trying to place who he is. “You, ser— you look familiar. Are you a performer?”  
  
“I like to think so,” Hugh shrugs. “Were you at that show at the amphitheater last week, where I played at the intermission?”  
  
Ellen’s eyes light up in recognition. “Oh, yes! Yes, you’re that lutist! I must tell you, I _loved_ your rendition of _A Thousand and One Stars._ It was so— so innovative! You don’t always see performers using a lute solo to accompany the poem with emotional impact.”  
  
Hugh’s ears turn red. He scratches at the back of his neck. “Well, it’s always nice to meet a fan.”  
  
“I’ve always admired the musical arts,” Ellen sighs fondly. “It’s a shame I couldn’t find you after the director chased you off the stage.”  
  
Hugh coughs. “Well, you know what they say about genius not being appreciated in its time, and all that.”  
  
Ser Melody clears her throat. “Moving right along,” she says. “Ellen and I represent your employer, Princess Guinevere.”  
  
That gets everyone’s attention. “Why hire mercenaries for a royal matter?” Elphin asks. “Surely this must be something the knights could take care of.”  
  
“If it were, I would handle it myself,” Ser Melody replies. “But her Highness would rather not get the knights involved with this. It would attract too much attention.”  
  
“As of late, a group of bandits called the Deadlock Gang have been robbing mail wagons in the hills outside the city,” Ellen explains. “We’ve known of these ruffians for quite some time, of course, but they’ve gotten far bolder in these past few weeks, targeting not just merchant caravans, but poor travelers as well. Just the other day, they stole a package that Princess Guinevere urgently needs returned. Urgently as in by tonight.”  
  
“So you want us to get the package back and take care of the bandits,” Hugh guesses.  
  
“Quite so.” Ser Melody unfolds a map of the area and spreads it out on the table. “We’ve estimated the Deadlock Gang’s base of operation to be in this forest about a half-hour’s ride from here, but we haven’t been able to pinpoint their location beyond that. I highly doubt they’re very dangerous, but be prepared to fight, if need be.”  
  
“Piece of cake,” Geese boasts. “I’ve killed _loads_ of bandits.”  
  
“Should we kill them or just bring them back for you to arrest?” Echidna asks.  
  
Ser Melody shrugs. “I truly do not care. Just see that they don’t bother this area any longer.”  
  
“Her Highness will reward you well, of course,” Ellen adds. “This package is extremely important to her. And the sooner you retrieve it, the better.”  
  
“You’ll find a cart at the stable just outside the southern gate,” Ser Melody says. “Best of luck, adventurers.”

* * *

  
  
The cart rattles and rumbles along the paved road out of Bern City. Hugh leans against one of the sides, looking at the pastures that give way to the untamed but peaceful sight of the Wyvern Lake Valley. Everywhere Hugh casts his eyes, he sees mountains in the distance and foothills between. It’s a far cry from the seagulls and rocky shorelines and the vast blue ocean that Hugh’s used to.  
  
He stretches, turning his eyes back to his fellow adventurers— since it seems they’re teammates now. Elphin’s idly plucking the strings on their harp. Arpeggios, Hugh recognizes.  
  
He nods to Elphin. “Where’d you learn to play?” he asks.  
  
Elphin looks up and shrugs. “Just around, really. I had some formal training in Etruria, but when I began my wanderings, I just picked things up from other minstrels and eventually found my own style. What about you?”  
  
“Well, when I was about four, this bard at a festival gave me this little reed flute— you know the kind,” Hugh says. Elphin winces. “Yeah, that’s the one. A few years later, my mom got tired of hearing me play it, so she decided to get me piano lessons. And then I picked up this old lute from a traveling peddler when I was eleven and haven’t put it down since.”  
  
“Hey, Echidna plays,” Geese chimes in, nudging Echidna. “So do I! Not that I figured I would when I got here, ‘course…”  
  
“Oh, yeah?” Hugh asks. “What d’you play?”  
  
Geese puffs up. “Well, I’m pretty alright with a trumpet, if I do say so myself,” he says. “Good enough to nail the bridge of _Rising Thunder_ note for note, least I was when I had a trumpet to play. Echidna, didn’t you tell me you drum?”  
  
Echidna sighs. “Yes, I played the drums. _Played_ , past tense. That was a long time ago. I barely even remember.”  
  
Hugh shrugs. “I wouldn’t bet on that,” he says. “Music’s one of those things you don’t just forget. Maybe you’re just rusty.”  
  
“Now, what are the odds that four of us know instruments?” Elphin remarks. “Unless…”  
  
Igrene looks up. She fumbles in her backpack and pulls out a wooden flute. “I dabble.”  
  
Hugh grins. “Damn, all we need’s a piano and we could forget about adventuring! We’d be a hit in every tavern from here to Etruria!”  
  
Echidna snorts. “An adventuring party full of bards,” she comments. “Wouldn’t that be a sight.”  
  
“Hey, Music Man, what kinda songs you know?” Geese asks.  
  
“A lot,” Hugh says. He’s not exaggerating. “Can’t promise I’m good at ‘em, but I know ‘em. So long as they’re _songs_ and not actually sports.”  
  
Echidna snorts. Geese grins abashedly and scratches the back of his head. “Well uh… how ‘bout a sea shanty? You know _Blow the Wind Westerly?”_  
  
Hugh doesn’t. “Sing it and I’ll play along,” he says instead, swinging his lute from his back to his front. He plucks a few strings to make sure it’s in tune, and looks expectantly to Geese.  
  
Geese brightens. Echidna rolls her eyes, but her mouth quirks upwards in a lopsided smile— Geese said as much that he and Echidna are traveling together, and Hugh would guess that this kind of thing happens a lot.  
  
He clears his throat and begins, in a scratchy but strong voice, “ _Up jumps a crab with his crooked legs / saying you play the cribbage and I'll stick the pegs_ — aw, come on, Echidna, it’s no fun with just one singer.”  
  
“Alright, alright,” Echidna chuckles. _“Singing blow the wind westerly, let the wind blow / by a gentle nor'wester how steady she goes—“_  
  
And then Geese again, _“Up jumps a dolphin with his chuckle-head / he jumps on the deck saying pull out the lead!”_  
  
And then both for the chorus, like a call-and-response song, _“Singing blow the wind westerly, let the wind blow / by a gentle nor’wester how steady she goes!”_  
  
Hugh does what he does best— improvises. He taps his shoe on the cart floor to keep time and jumps in with a harmony, filling the space between the verses with music on the offbeats. When the third verse begins he sees Elphin, smiling with shared joy, start to play along, and on the next chorus, Igrene jumps in and adds her flute to the group. And when they finish they’re all grinning and clapping and it feels less like a cart full of strangers on the same job and more like an actual team.  
  
(This, Hugh thinks, is why he’s so fond of music.)  
  
“You’ve got a good voice,” Hugh says, leaning over and lightly bumping Geese’s shoulder.  
  
Geese preens. “Aw, shucks.”  
  
“You play excellently yourself,” Elphin says to Hugh. “And you, my lady..”  
  
Igrene cracks a smile. “Thank you. It’s been a while since I last played like that, but I’m glad it’s still passable.”  
  
“All the more reason to start up again!” Hugh says, punctuating it with a lute chord. “I know we’re _technically_ supposed to be killing bandits or whatever, but I don’t see why that means it has to be all quiet and somber.”  
  
Echidna shakes her head. “You haven’t been away from home long, huh?” she guesses. “Hold on to that optimism.”  
  
Hugh grins sheepishly. “I left a month ago, yeah.”  
  
“May I ask why?” Elphin asks.  
  
“No reason for me to keep it secret,” Hugh shrugs. “I left home on a journey, y’see. My dream is to play in every royal house in Elibe!”  
  
“How’s that going for you?” Echidna asks.  
  
“Well, I _might’ve_ lost all my money in a poker game and now I’m several thousand gold in debt,” Hugh admits. “And I _might’ve_ gotten laughed out of the room when I asked the steward about playing for King Zephiel. But you gotta walk before you can run, right?”  
  
Geese nods sagely. “I get it. I’m broke, too. I was a merchant with my dad and brother a couple’a years back, but I went out of business so I joined a crew of pirates, and I was so bad at that, the captain told Echidna that he’d sail away and not steal all her shit if she took me on. So we’re best friends now, pretty much.”  
  
“He’s not so bad,” Echidna says. “Sure, he’s a little dim, but he’s good with an axe and I trust him to watch my back.”  
  
Hugh nods in understanding. “Sorry about your business,” he says to Geese.  
  
“Aw, it wasn’t meant to be,” Geese shrugs.  
  
“So what about you?” he asks Echidna.  
  
“Geese and I are from the Western Isles,” Echidna says. “It’s a good place with good people. But it’s lawless and disorganized, and the Etrurian soldiers posted there to keep things in line are incompetent at best and malicious at worst. We need real leadership or the good people are going to get snuffed out by the pirates and bandits. So I traveled to Etruria to petition to pull the soldiers out of the Isles and let us govern ourselves, but apparently it’s not high enough a priority to reach the King.”  
  
“Dicks,” Hugh comments.  
  
“Right?” Echidna agrees. “So I’ve been traveling and trying to build up a force of strong fighters to help me take back the Isles without Etruria’s help. So far it’s… me and Geese.”  
  
“I don’t think two idiots with axes is gonna do much against armies of pirates,” Geese adds.  
  
Echidna snorts. “Hey, for all I know, these guys are the kind of people I need.” She pauses, looking at Hugh and Elphin. “Well, maybe Igrene here is.”  
  
Igrene looks up. “Hm?”  
  
“I was just saying you look like a tough fighter,” Echidna says. “You good with that bow?”  
  
“I’m alright, I suppose,” Igrene shrugs.  
  
“Where’d you learn?” Echidna asks next.  
  
Igrene toys with the end of her longbow idly. “Nabata,” she says. “I grew up in the Arcadia oasis. I left last year to see the world, and I’ve been doing the odd mercenary contract when I need money to buy something.”  
  
Hugh whistles. “That’s a long way away,” he says. “And how ‘bout you, Elphin? Etruria, right?”  
  
“Around there,” Elphin agrees. “I, ah, left home to seek my fortune quite some time ago. I’ve made a living as a traveling bard and fortune-teller since then.”  
  
“Fortune-teller?” Geese asks. “Like you, you, uh, you look at my hands and tell me who I’m gonna marry and that stuff?”  
  
Elphin purses their lips. “Sure.”  
  
“What do mine say?” Geese asks. “I’m curious, y’know.”  
  
Elphin takes a look at one of Geese’s palms. “Interesting,” they say. “It seems you will live a long and eventful life, marry a close friend, move to a quiet ranch, and raise sheep. You die at seventy from an abscessed tooth.”  
  
Geese nods slowly. “I do like sheep,” he says.  
  
“Well, that’s good, you have a lot in common. Anyway,” Elphin says, nodding to the forest. “We’re here.”  
  
Hugh, of course, tips the cart driver. The driver waves to him as they walk off. Hugh hopes his creditor won’t miss another few gold.  
  
“I thought you gambled away all your money,” Echidna says.  
  
“I borrowed some from my opponent so I could try to win my money back,” Hugh says. He takes out his coin purse and shakes it. A few crumbs fall out and nothing else.  
  
Hugh coughs. “Well, I guess I really _am_ out of money now.”  
  
“Is this the kinda creditor that’s gonna come break your legs if you don’t pay up?” Geese asks as the party begins to make their way into the woods.  
  
“Nah,” Hugh says. He pauses. “Least I sure hope not. I don’t know her that well, but she seemed more like the ‘shank you in an alleyway’ kind of creditor rather than a ‘break your legs’ kind of creditor.”  
  
Echidna rubs her temples. “Oh, well in _that_ case.”  
  
“Aw, don’t worry about me,” Hugh says. “I mean, I’m more a lover than a fighter, but this sword ain’t just for show.” He sets a hand on the rapier at his belt to prove his point.  
  
“I see, I see,” Elphin remarks. “That explains why you can’t keep an audience.”  
  
“Hey, come on—“  
  
“Wait,” Igrene interrupts. “Something’s coming.”  
  
The instant the words leave her mouth, four shapes jump out from the undergrowth, surrounding the party. They look like your typical ruffians— piecemeal armor, dull blades, and battered wooden shields. Their most distinctive feature is the thick chain necklaces with a lock on the front, like a really heavy friendship necklace— they must be the Deadlock Gang. Echidna swats one aside with the flat of her axe like he’s a golf ball. He lands on his back in a prickly bush, too snagged to move himself out. The second ruffian doesn’t fare much better. He tries to attack Geese, misses, and gets clocked in the face. He goes down like a rock.  
  
Igrene takes aim at the third. The ruffian looks like he regrets his career choice immensely. She pins him to the tree by the collar of his shirt with an arrow, and he’s facing down his demise in the form of a more competent woman when Hugh puts his hands up.  
  
“Okay, okay, hold everything,” he says. Everything comes to a stop, including Geese’s fist, six inches away from punching a ruffian he’s holding by the collar.  
  
“Hey,” Echidna says. “Why?”  
  
“We don’t have to fight these guys,” Hugh says. “C’mon. We’re kicking their asses. This just isn’t fair.”  
  
Geese drops the ruffian and scratches his head. “I thought kickin’ asses is what Bern hired us for.” The ruffian, clearly lacking in brains, stands back up and tries to hit Geese from behind, only for Geese to elbow him in the gut hard enough he crumples to the forest floor, clutching his stomach.  
  
“Well, I think we’ve kind of made our point,” Hugh says. “Hey, Prickles.” He jabs his thumb at the ruffian in the bush. “You think you can help us out? We’ll make it worth your while.”  
  
Prickles considers this. “How so?”  
  
“Well, as you can see, I’m surrounded by very dangerous friends,” Hugh says. “If you tell me what I need to know, then they won’t kill you. Information in exchange for your life— sounds like a fair deal to me, eh, buddy?”  
  
Prickles sighs. “Alright, alright. Uh… about the other guys— they’re okay, right?”  
  
Igrene pokes at a ruffian on the ground with her foot. “They’ll live.”  
  
“Well, okay, okay, listen,” Prickles says. “We don’t wanna kill you guys. We’re thieves, scumbags, and lowlife highwaymen, yeah, but we don’t kill anyone. We just fuck around and scare ‘em a bit so we can steal their stuff. Make sure all them other ruffians know this is Deadlock territory.”  
  
“Well, if that’s all,” Echidna deadpans.  
  
“We can’t all make a living kickin’ ass or-or-or singin’ songs like your music man here,” Prickles replies, gesturing vaguely to Hugh. “A-a-and you know, I do wanna mention how grateful I am to you, music man, for not killin’ me. Not ‘cuz I have mouths to feed or nothin’, but just ‘cuz I don’t really wanna die, you know?”  
  
“At least he’s honest,” Igrene mumbles.  
  
“So, the low-down,” Prickles says. “A couple’a weeks back, we got new management. Never met the guy. He sends orders through letters. Ain’t ever answered any questions as to why. But we’re supposed to weed through the shit we steal and pick out the magical stuff like tomes, enchanted weapons, magic items— you know. If you’re looking for something like that, then it’s prolly long gone. But somethin’ else, no one’ll notice.”  
  
Hugh frowns thoughtfully. “So you’re willing to help us out here?”  
  
“Well yeah, sure,” Prickles says. “We don’t got any reason to keep all that junk in the hideout. I’ll lead you to the cave if you get me out of these brambles and everything. There’s a missive in my pack— I’ll give it to you guys and if you show it to anyone in the cave and tell ‘em you’re friends of Twitch, they’ll let you pass.”  
  
“Alright, fair enough,” Hugh decides. “Geese, can you get him out?”  
  
Geese grabs Prickles by his collar and pulls him out of the brambles with no apparent effort, then sets him down on the path. Prickles straightens his shirt and rights himself, shaking off the burrs.  
  
“Right,” Prickles says. “Here.” He hands Hugh a missive written on cheap, oil-stained parchment in some thieves’ cant that Hugh can’t read. It’s the real deal, alright— a real letter from a bandit.  
  
Hugh feels four sets of shoulders crowding around him as he unfolds it anyway, squinting at the thieves’ cant and symbols on the paper. It’s absolutely incomprehensible— thieves’ cant is not known for being the most intuitive of symbol-based languages.  
  
“Don’t suppose any of you know how to read this,” he says.  
  
Four head shakes.  
  
“I can barely read at all,” Geese admits.  
  
Elphin rubs the back of their neck. “I’ve known people who could read it, but I suppose that doesn’t help us here.”  
  
Echidna looks at Prickles. “What’s this thing say?” she asks. Prickles seems to think about mouthing off, but thinks better of it, given that Echidna did kind of handily dispatch him and the rest of his friends.  
  
“It’s from Twitch,” Prickles says. “A list of stuff she wants us to steal specifically. So we kinda know what we’re lookin’ for and don’t waste our time jumping caravans that don’t got any shit we need, she told us.”  
  
“Huh.” Hugh nods, almost impressed. “Efficient.”  
  
“Yeah, she’s a new hire ‘cuz she’s got an in with Deadlock— he’s the head guy in charge, only answers to the new management, some guy called E.” Prickles attempts to free himself from the bushes and does not succeed.  
  
“Deadlock, leader of the Deadlock Gang,” Igrene says. “Makes sense.”  
  
“E… what?” Hugh asks.  
  
“Just E,” Prickles shrugs.  
  
“E… lectricity?” Elphin guesses.  
  
“E-laborate?” Igrene guesses.  
  
“E-chidna!” Geese says. Echidna rolls her eyes.  
  
“We’re wasting time,” she decides. “I’m not sure I trust this guy.”  
  
Elphin nods. “I agree. None of us can read thieves’ cant. He could very well have just made all of that up. Twitch and Deadlock may not even exist.”  
  
Hugh frowns. “Aw, c’mon, what reason does he have to lie to us? We just proved we can kick his ass pretty handily.”  
  
“I like to avoid ass-kicking,” Prickles says helpfully. “Which is why you’ve got my word that it’s the complete ’n honest truth.”  
  
“Sounds good to me,” Geese agrees.  
  
Echidna rubs her temples. “Okay, it looks like we’re evenly split. We need a tiebreaker. Igrene?”  
  
Igrene blinks. “Um, I…” she falters. “You know what! Let’s let fate decide.”  
  
She pulls a silver coin from her pocket. “Heads we trust them, tails we don’t. Does that sound fair?”  
  
“Alright, fine,” Echidna sighs. “Not like anyone has any better ideas.”

* * *

  
  
“This is why I don’t gamble,” Echidna grumbles as the five of them follow Prickles, freed from the thorns, towards a cave with a crude wooden structure built in front of it, made from ragged planks and sharpened logs. It has two torches on the outside, flanking the door. The only window is a sliding slat in the door. There are chains seemingly draped at random across the structure, and several knives and arrows stabbed into the wood, probably all to make it look more intimidating.  
  
Prickles knocks. “Hey, Mick,” he says. “S’me. We got, uh, a situation. See, we got our ass kicked in this big misunderstanding, and the other guys are outta commission for a while.”  
  
“God, shut up, Darren,” someone behind the door grumbles. He slides the window open and glares down at the group. “I don’t give a shit. Who the fuck are you jokers?”  
  
“They’re—“ Prickles falters.  
  
“We’re base inspectors,” Hugh lies— convincingly. “Got a missive from someone called, ah, ‘Twitch?’ Saying that you folks are way overdue for inspection.” He holds up the folded missive and shakes his head. “I can only _imagine_ the OSHA violations.”  
  
Mick sweats. “Uh, you know Twitch?”  
  
Hugh waves a hand. “Not personally. She’s my client. Anyway, would you be kind enough to let us in so we can look around? Your man Darren here—“ Hugh claps Prickles on the shoulder— “offered to lead us on the tour so we wouldn’t bother the rest of you.”  
  
Prickles nods empathetically. “It’s true! I know how busy you guys are, Mick, a-and, uh, consider it my way of sayin’ I’m sorry for last week’s potluck disaster.”  
  
Mick looks suspicious. “I dunno,” he admits. “But I guess you seem legit. S’not like Twitch tells _us_ anything.”  
  
He opens the door. Hugh smiles at him as they walk through, into the cave hideout. “Much obliged, friend.”  
  
“Er, no problem, I guess,” Mick replies. He shrugs and shuts the door.  
  
Prickles leads them down a tunnel with a sand floor and torches lining the walls— you know, your typical underground bandit hideout. “Okay, uh, I’ve actually gotta go, but I mean, you keep up a show like you gave up there, Music Man, and you can get anywhere. You’re gonna want lot C2 in room four.”  
  
“Well-organized,” Hugh comments. “Thanks. Though, uh, we dunno how this is gonna work out, so you might wanna tell your buddies to make yourselves scarce from this area. We don’t want an unnecessary fight. We just need to get our package and then we’ll be off.”  
  
Prickles nods. “Oh, yeah, of course,” he says. “Thanks a whole bunch, you guys. I really appreciate it.” His ears prick up, and the color drains from his face. “Okay-good-talk-gotta-go-bye!”  
  
Hugh watches him scamper off. “Huh,” he says. “Wonder what that’s about.” He shrugs, leaving it at that, and starting back down the hall, looking for the room Prickles told them about.  
  
Echidna nudges him. “Where in Elibe did you learn to have a silver tongue like that?” she remarks, clearly impressed.  
  
“I betcha you could sell a guy sand in the desert,” Geese adds.  
  
Hugh scratches the back of his neck. “Aw, it’s nothing.”  
  
“We should keep moving,” Igrene suggests. “I don’t want to stay here longer than necessary.”  
  
“Igrene is right,” Elphin agrees. “The longer we stay, the higher the risk of getting into a fight.”  
  
“Don’t worry,” Hugh promises. “See? Room four. That wasn’t that hard. We’re gonna be in and out in a snap. Everything’s going great.”

* * *

  
  
The room in question is, helpfully, very well-organized. Lots are marked out with rope fences. There are signs posted telling which lot it is, with a number and a letter, and what seems to be an inventory of the stuff in it. Hugh spots big crates of things in addition to piles of what seems like miscellaneous junk. There are whole carts, piles of riding gear, racks of armor, chests that look incredibly tempting, and approximately five million iron swords. All of the valuable things must be somewhere else.  
  
“Ah, here,” Elphin says. “C2.” They nod to the lot. The inventory list is something different than the others— while most of the others have parchments pinned to the signs, C2’s is a chalkboard with items being added, erased as they’re catalogued, and added again.  
  
Echidna steps over the rope fence and picks up a package about the size of a suitcase, marked with the Bern coat of arms. She hefts it onto her shoulder easily. “Alright. Let’s get out of here.”  
  
“That was… surprisingly painless,” Igrene admits. “We didn’t even have to fight anyone. You’re really quite charismatic, Hugh—“  
  
“MORGENSTERN.”  
  
Hugh stops in his tracks. He slowly turns around and grins awkwardly. “Oh, hey, uh, Sigune,” he says. “Fancy meeting you here.”  
  
Sigune grabs his collar and yanks him down to her level. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” she hisses. “Where. Is. My _FUCKING_ money, Morgenstern?”  
  
Hugh puts his hands up. “I’m working on it, I swear,” he promises. “I’m just, right now, I’m on a job, and I’m getting paid for it, and I _promise_ it’s all going to you to pay off what I owe you.”  
  
“Ohhh,” Geese realizes. “ _That_ kinda creditor.”  
  
Sigune shoves him back. “How the fuck did you bunch of dirt-grubbers get in here, anyway?” she demands.  
  
Hugh tugs the wrinkles out of his coat. “We’re base inspectors, inspecting the base,” he says. “You’ve got a really impressive organizational system here.”  
  
Sigune tosses her hair. “Well, good to know someone appreciates my hard work. Anyway, you should get the fuck out now.”  
  
“Funny you should say that,” Echidna says. “We were actually just leaving.”  
  
Hugh frowns. “Actually, one question,” he says.  
  
Sigune rolls her eyes. “This had better be good.”  
  
“Why, exactly, are you a bandit now?” Hugh asks. “And why are you taking orders from a guy named E?”  
  
He holds up the missive. Sigune snatches it out of his hand, reads over it, and stuffs it in her pocket with a disgusted noise.  
  
“He’s my _mark_ , shit-for-brains,” Sigune hisses. “I’m conning him. Also, I’m not gonna say any more to you now. You need to get out of here before Deadlock sees y—“  
  
“Before Deadlock sees who?” says a new voice, in the entryway to the room.  
  
Sigune sighs deeply and turns on her heel. “Deadlock!” she says in a fake-cheerful tone, clapping her hands together. “Hey, you know, the base inspectors were _just_ saying how impressed they are with your cataloguing system!”  
  
Deadlock is a big, bulky man, as one would expect from the leader of a gang of nondescript bandits that will never be relevant again after this chapter. Like the rest of the bandits, he has a chain necklace with a lock resting on his chest. He’s considerably better-armored than his underlings, and better-dressed. Aside from the chain, he wouldn’t look out of place in a merchant’s guild hall. He’s flanked by two more ruffians with weapons.  
  
He chuckles. “Aw, well, that’s nice of you, inspector. Though, uh, I don’t remember you tellin’ me you ordered an inspection, Twitch.”  
  
“Oh, right, yes,” Sigune nods, wringing her hands. “Well, I saw that the base was due for an inspection, y’see, for workplace safety, and _obviously_ I know how you prioritize the safety of your workers, and all. But you’re such a busy, busy man, I didn’t want to bother you with this thing. And, as you can see, I’ve got it handled. I was just showing them the way out.”  
  
Deadlock nods slowly. “I see, I see. Can I ask about the package your strong friend has, Mr. Inspector?”  
  
Hugh coughs. “That’s our inspectoring tools,” he says. “Necessary things. Really big magnifying glasses. Extra clipboards. The usual.”  
  
“Oh, may I take a look?” Deadlock asks. “I’ve never seen the inspectoring tools up close, you see. I’m very curious.”  
  
Hugh shakes his head. “Sorry, friend, trade secret. I’m not at liberty to share the tools I use with anyone outside the business.”  
  
Deadlock frowns, folding his arms. “Wasn’t aware base inspecting was such a secretive career.”  
  
“Oh, you know inspectors and their quirks,” Sigune shrugs. “So, anyway, good talk, I’ll see the inspector and his team out. And when can I expect the report?”  
  
“Oh, uh, three to five business days,” Hugh says. “More if the pigeon gets waylaid by the weather. But, uh, everything seems to be in pretty good order! I was worried for a bit, seeing how long you went without an inspection, but, uh, you’ve kept up with things really well. Nice job.”  
  
“Mm-hmm,” Deadlock says. “So, you’re under the employ of Bern royalty?”  
  
“We sure are,” Hugh replies. “Proud of it. King Zephiel’s workers are the backbone of Bern, after all.”  
  
Deadlock chuckles. “You know we’re, like, thieves, right? And highwaymen, and bandits, and general scumbags? I wouldn’t think the king would have inspectors come and inspect our workplace.”  
  
Hugh falters. “Well, I mean, even thieves and bandits are part of Bern’s work force, right? Doing illegal acts doesn’t exempt you from having to think about workplace hazards, you know.”  
  
“You know what!” Sigune decides. “I think the inspector and his team ought to get going. So many bases to inspect, so little time. You know?”  
  
Hugh nods empathetically. “I do know, I do know. Thanks for having us, though, it was a wonderful base to visit. Uh, keep up the good work!”  
  
Sigune nudges Hugh and starts towards the exit. Hugh follows her lead, smiling cheerfully to Deadlock. The rest of the team files out behind him, essentially stealing the package right from under his nose. Echidna is halfway out the room when Deadlock says, “Hey, Kevin, run me through the list of recent arrivals in lot C2, will you?”  
  
Sigune winces and picks up the pace. It turns out that, sometimes, you don’t need to sprint out of a dungeon at full tilt, and power-walking is sufficient. So they get out from the cave, past Mick at the entrance, and almost back out to the wagon before an alarm bell starts clanging through the forest, scaring birds from the foliage. Sigune curses and sprints onwards, vaulting into the wagon.  
  
“Well, what the fuck are you waiting for?” she snaps. “Go! Go!”  
  
Hugh’s not about to argue with that. Sigune elbows the driver aside and steals the reins, snapping them while Geese is still halfway over the side. Echidna pulls him in by the back of his coat.  
  
“Well, that went well!” Hugh says brightly, over the rattling of the wagon. “We got the thing, right?”  
  
Echidna holds up the package. “Sure _hope_ this is the thing. Hey, uh, can I ask you a question?”  
  
“No,” Sigune snaps.  
  
Echidna shrugs. “Fair enough.”  
  
“I owe her money,” Hugh explains. “‘Cause I’m, uh, apparently really bad at gambling.”  
  
“Yeah, actually, just for this bullshit, I’m charging interest,” Sigune decides. She tugs back on the reins, slowing the horses down. “What the fuck are you even _doing_ out here? Shouldn’t you be at your mommy’s house?”  
  
“I’m on a job,” Hugh replies. “Y’know, working to pay back the money I owe you? Of course, when the whole continent knows my name, I’ll have all the money I need…”  
  
“If you wait to pay me back until you’re a fucking _rock star_ , you’ll be so far in debt that all the grammys in the world wouldn’t pay you out of it,” Sigune hisses.  
  
Hugh puts up his hands. “Well, when we get paid for this job, I’ll be on the way to paying it back. C’mon, I’m not gonna stiff you on money I owe. That’s a dick move.”  
  
“I have a question,” Echidna says. “Why gamble with money you don’t have in the first place?”  
  
Hugh scratches the back of his neck. “Well, uh, I thought I could win it back.”  
  
Sigune snorts. “Moron thought it’d be smart to try and win against _me_. You bunch of out-of-town do-gooders probably don’t know this, but I’m a pretty big deal in the gambling world.”  
  
“Not my best plan,” Hugh admits.  
  
“Well, get crackin’ on a better one, numbnuts, ‘cuz I have no problem with breaking your kneecaps,” Sigune replies.  
  
“Got anything you could pawn?” Geese asks. “That’s what my brother did when he got his cash swindled away in a dice game.”  
  
“Did he win it back, though?” Elphin asks in reply.  
  
“Well, no…”  
  
Hugh scratches the back of his neck. “I dunno, I didn’t really bring anything from home to pawn,” he admits.  
  
“What about that nice little piece there?” Sigune asks, nodding to the pendant around Hugh’s neck, resting just above his neckline. It’s pretty small, made of tarnished silver with a tiny clasp, and it has an enameled cover with the design of a starry sky. Hugh reaches up and touches it, as if making sure it’s still there.  
  
“No way,” he says. “This one isn’t for sale.”  
  
Sigune shrugs. “Well, suit yourself.”  
  
Echidna, sitting up on the board with the wagon driver, nods to the road ahead. “Ser Melody and Ellen came out to meet us,” she says. “Hey, Twitch, you’re not wanted for a bunch of crimes or anything, right?”  
  
Sigune snorts. “Not that they can prove.”  
  
Hugh leans over the side of the wagon. Ellen waves. Hugh waves back.  
  
“Did you get the package?” Ser Melody asks when the wagon pulls to a stop. She looks over the group as they get out. “You seem to have made a new… friend.”  
  
Sigune gives her a two-fingered salute. “Melody.”  
  
Ser Melody narrows her eyes. “Sigune.”  
  
“How’s that investigation of the robbery on fourth going?” Sigune asks, grinning and leaning against the side of the wagon. “Found any clues?”  
  
“It’s going _quite_ well, thank you for asking,” Ser Melody grinds out. “The package?”  
  
Echidna hands it to her. “Safe and sound. We didn’t even have to kill anybody.”  
  
“I don’t think I wanna stick around here too long, though,” Geese admits. “I mean, when that guy finds out we were lyin’ to him, it ain’t gonna be pretty.”  
  
Hugh waves a hand. “It’ll be fine, at least for me. Dunno about the rest of you jokers, but I’ve still got a world tour to finish.”  
  
Ellen perks up. “A world tour? For what?”  
  
“I,” Hugh says proudly. “Am going to play in every royal court in Elibe. If I’m lucky, I’ll get my name on posters and such, but that’s not really the main point.”  
  
Sigune thumps him. “Pay me back first, smartass.”  
  
“Anyway, her highness will be pleased to know you got the package back in one piece,” ser Melody says. “In fact, she actually requested to speak with you all, on the matter of your reward.”  
  
Hugh perks up. “I like the sound of that.”

* * *

  
  
Princess Guinevere meets them in the recieving hall of the castle, which is exactly as large and imposing as is appropriate for the king who runs them. Guinevere herself doesn’t quite match, at least physically. Hugh doesn’t doubt that she could very well fill that space if she chose to and would have no problem with it. Either way, her face lights up when she sees Ser Melody and Ellen return with Hugh’s group in tow, Sigune included.  
  
Hugh takes a knee. “Your highness,” he says. The rest of the team follows his lead, even Sigune, even if ser Melody has to prod her in the back to do it.  
  
“Kneel,” she hisses.  
  
Sigune grins lasciviously. “Yeah, you’d _like_ that, wouldn’t you?”  
  
Ser Melody grumbles indistinctly. “Rogues.”  
  
Princess Guinevere smiles. “You may rise,” she says. “It pleases me to see you all back safe and in one piece, adventurers.”  
  
“The package, your highness,” ser Melody says, offering it to the princess. She takes it.  
  
“Perfect,” Princess Guinevere says. “And just in time, too. The festival is still set to go on tonight, isn’t it?”  
  
“It is,” ser Melody replies.  
  
Princess Guinevere clasps her hands together. “Oh, wonderful! See to it that the package gets to where it needs to be, Ser Melody, and make it very quick. Ellen and I will stay here to discuss the adventurers’ reward.”  
  
“As you say, my lady.”  
  
She hums. “I’m certain you’ll want to be paid,” she says. “Money is no object, I assure you. But might there be anything else that you would like, anything at all?”  
  
Hugh gets an idea. “Actually, your highness,” she says. “I can think of something.”

* * *

  
  
Hugh tests the strings on his lute backstage at the Bern amphitheater. “What do you think?” he asks Elphin. “Right key? Or should I go with B flat?”  
  
“Provided you don’t do anything too unorthodox with the performance, G major is fine,” they reply.  
  
“Too bad _Weight of the Crown_ isn’t really a group piece,” Hugh says. “I could do with some backup.”  
  
“Well, if we’d had more than like, two hours to find something that would work and to practice,” Echidna replies. “And if Geese brought his trumpet, then maybe.”  
  
Geese sighs. “I miss my trumpet,” he says longingly. “Sure hope Davy Jones has a good time with it.”  
  
Hugh shrugs. “Ah, well. S’always next time.”  
  
“Ser Hugh, excuse me,” Princess Guinevere says, poking her head in from behind a pillar. “My brother wishes to speak with you.”  
  
Geese snorts. “Man, what’d you do?”  
  
“Oh, I met him a while back,” Hugh replies nonchalantly. “And he and my mom dated for a bit when they were teenagers.”  
  
Echidna blinks. “You’re fucking with me.”  
  
Hugh shrugs. “It’s the truth. Anyway, I’d better not keep the king waiting, right?” He grins at the rest of the group and follows Guinevere out to the seat of honor, where King Zephiel himself sits, glowering at the empty stage and looking quite out of place amidst the streamers and floating lights. He looks like he ought to be looming on his throne in the castle, not holding a deep-fried sausage with a little paper crown cock-eyed on his head.  
  
Hugh bobs his head. “Your Majesty.”  
  
King Zephiel glances over and grunts. “Hugh Morgenstern,” he replies. “It’s been quite a while. You’ve grown.”  
  
Hugh chuckles. “I mean, I’d sure hope so,” he says. “Enjoying the festival?”  
  
“It’s lovely.” He doesn’t sound like his heart is in it. “I don’t usually bother to come, but Guinevere insisted.”  
  
“It’s _special_ this year, Zeph,” Guinevere insists. “Come on, you’ll see what I mean soon. Ser Hugh was actually kind enough to help me. It was a big coincidence, of course, but I’m pleased it worked out this way.”  
  
King Zephiel grunts. “How is your mother?” he asks Hugh. “Is she still married?”  
  
“Seventeen years and going strong,” Hugh replies.  
  
“Mm.” King Zephiel nods. “I’d expected as much.”  
  
“She actually asked me to pass on a greeting if I happened to meet with you,” Hugh continues. “And, might I add, sir, it’s an _honor_ to be here. I hope you’ll find my performance… entertaining, at the very least, for whatever reason happens to make itself known.”  
  
King Zephiel hums. “Well, break a leg, as they say,” he says, gesturing to the stage.  
  
Hugh bobs his head. “Your majesty.”  
  
Hugh hops up on the stage, putting the strap of his lute over his shoulder, and Guinevere nudges her brother. “Come on, Zeph,” she says. “I know you don’t really like coming out to these events, but it’s special this year.”  
  
Zephiel sighs. “I believe you,” he says. “Really.”  
  
A hush comes over the crowd. Hugh strums his lute and starts to play. He’s good at it, but that’s not what Guinevere is here to see.  
  
She nudges Zephiel again. “Look,” she says, pointing to the sky. “Don’t they usually do the fireworks around this time?”  
  
“It’s been too dry for that these past few years, you know that,” Zeph sighs. “A shame. They were the best… part…”  
  
Before his eyes, the sky lights up with colorful fireworks. Guinevere beams. Everything went perfectly, and she’s sure Zephiel would agree.

* * *

  
  
Hugh leans back in the tavern chair and sighs, setting down his mug. “Damn, I needed that. Fighting bandits is hard work.”  
  
“We only fought like, four of them,” Echidna points out. “And you didn’t fight shit.”  
  
“I’m really more of an idea man,” Hugh replies. “I can fight, sure. But I promised my mom I wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t try to hurt me first.”  
  
“You’re keeping a creed of pacifism… because your mother told you to,” Echidna deadpans.  
  
Geese nods. “I can dig it. Moms are smart.”  
  
“I admit I’m relieved that we didn’t need to kill anyone, too,” Elphin says. They’re leaning on the back of Geese’s chair. “Now what?”  
  
“Dunno about you, but I’m headed up to Sacae,” Hugh says. “My world tour continues! This job was just so I could make a dent in paying Sigune back, and also kinda buy food.”  
  
“Hey, funny, that,” Echidna realizes. “Geese and I were actually heading towards Ilia next. We should go together, the roads can be dangerous.”  
  
Hugh grins. “Yeah, sure! How ‘bout either of you?”  
  
“I believe I’d like that,” Elphin decides. “Igrene?”  
  
Igrene has been sitting at the next table over, sharpening arrowheads, but she looks up and blinks when Elphin says her name. “Hm? Oh, sure. I don’t have a real destination, so.”  
  
“Maybe you’ll become a rock star, too, along the way,” Echidna jokes. “World tour, and all.”  
  
Igrene considers this. Then she shrugs. “I might as well.”  
  
“I think it’d be fun,” Geese says. “I’d get to get up in front of people without a shirt and nobody throws bottles.”  
  
“Truly, the only reason anyone _ever_ seeks musical fame,” Elphin deadpans.  
  
Hugh whistles. “Aw, hell yeah, take it off,” he says. Geese guffaws, pounding his fist on the table. Echidna rubs the bridge of her nose, but she’s smiling. Geese is an idiot, but he’s _her_ idiot.  
  
“Here’s a question,” Igrene says. “What are you planning to do about Sigune?”  
  
Hugh glances out the tavern window. “I’m hoping she’ll take an IOU.”  
  
“Hold, Ser Morgenstern.”  
  
Hugh turns around from where he was occupied going over a map with Elphin and Igrene. “Oh, hey,” he says to Ser Melody. She has Ellen with her, as well as the Actual Princess of Bern. “Your highness,” he adds. He bows his head to her politely. He was raised right, he knows how to greet a princess.  
  
“Oh, I’m so glad we caught you before you all left,” Princess Guinevere says. “Really, I must thank you again. You were such a help.”  
  
“Aw, don’t mention it,” Hugh says humbly. “I mean, you let me perform, right? So we’ll call it even.”  
  
“That was wonderful, too,” Princess Guinevere agrees. “ _Weight of the Crown_ is one of Melody’s favorites.” Ser Melody’s ears turn a little pink, but she doesn’t deny it.  
  
“Was there something you needed, your highness?” Echidna asks, because someone has to keep things on track and it’s not going to be anyone else.  
  
“As a matter of fact, there _is_ something I needed from you, Ser Echidna,” Princess Guinevere says. “I hear you’re headed to Ilia, correct?”  
  
“I am,” Echidna says. “Well. _We_ are, I suppose.”  
  
“I’d like you to check up on Ilia’s king and queen for me,” she says. “Queen Juno and I have been in regular contact, but I haven’t recieved a letter from her in months, which is quite unlike her. Could you see if she and her husband are alright, and write me when you find out? You will be paid, of course.”  
  
“We can do that,” Echidna agrees. “No skin off my back.”  
  
Ellen puts a hand on Guinevere’s arm. “My lady, wasn’t there something else?” she asks. “I could swear you mentioned something to me.”  
  
“I did!” Princess Guinevere remembers. “Ser Morgenstern! My brother passes on his greetings to your mother, and invites her to visit if she wants. I think he’s still trying to apologize for that thing in 990.”  
  
“You know, he really doesn’t have to do that,” Hugh says. “I’ll tell her he says hi in my next letter, but I mean, he knows it’s really not a big deal anymore, right? It’s been like, ten years.”  
  
“Perhaps we can just take into account the display case you broke and call it even,” Melody says dryly.  
  
“I would call that a justified crime, personally,” Hugh says. “But if it helps you sleep at night, sure.”  
  
Ellen blinks. “Why is his Majesty apologizing to ser Hugh’s mother, exactly?”  
  
“Long story,” Princess Guinevere replies. “She and my brother courted as teenagers, then she moved away, and there was some other important stuff that happened that Zephiel still won’t tell me about. Anyway.”  
  
“We should get going,” Igrene calls. “It’s a long way to Bulgar.”  
  
“Oh, yes, of course, don’t let me keep you,” Princess Guinevere says. She nudges Ellen. “Wasn’t there one more thing you wanted to bring up, Ellen?”  
  
“Oh!” Ellen hesitates. "Right! Yes! I want to travel and play music, too, so would you mind if I came along?”  
  
Hugh grins. “Hey, the more the merrier, if you ask me.”  
  
Ellen’s face lights up. “Oh! Oh, thank you! And, my lady—“  
  
“Don’t you dare thank me, Ellen,” Guinevere cuts her off. “Why in the world would I want to keep you here when you could follow your dream? Just don’t forget to come back to visit every now and then.”  
  
Ser Melody hands her a thin metal whistle. “If you’re ever in danger and you need my help, use this, and I’ll be there, no matter how far.”  
  
“Is that metaphorical or literal?” Elphin wonders.  
  
“It’s magical, is what it is,” Ser Melody replies.  
  
“Well, I’ll do my best not to get into trouble too often!” Ellen decides. “And with five whole warriors to travel with, I imagine even _I_ would have to be really trying to get in trouble.”  
  
Geese grimaces. “Yeah, about that, Echidna and I tend to attract trouble.”  
  
Echidna thumps him. “I’d say _you_ tend to attract trouble. _How_ many pirates did we have to fight because you pissed off their captains?”  
  
“Well, I stand by it,” Geese replies. “Captain Three-eyes _is_ a sore loser and I refuse to be told otherwise.”  
  
Ser Melody sighs. “Best keep the whistle on you at all times,” she says. “Safe travels, Ellen.”  
  
“Gods guide your path,” Princess Guinevere says to the group. “Thank you again for all you’re doing.”  
  
Echidna nods to her. “It’s no problem, your Highness.”  
  
“Let’s get going,” Hugh decides. “How ‘bout a walking song to keep things moving? Ah, here’s one I bet you all know. Five, six, seven, eight— _There will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword…”_


End file.
